Caught Live: Rufus Wainwright, Dublin

The pre-show announcement goes something like this: “The artist has asked for you not to clap between songs, or until after he has left the stage. The exit is part of the show. The first half of the show consists of a song-cycle.” A minute later the curtains are pulled back, and a tall, dark figure shuffles Nosferatu-like towards a grand piano, wearing, yes, a cape. Could it be true? Is this beautiful new venue actually a time machine back to 1975? And then he starts to sing, and suddenly it all makes perfect sense.

Born under the shadow of his mother’s terminal illness, Wainwright’s new album All Days Are Nights: Songs For Lulu is a totally stripped-back affair, with Rufus alone at the piano throughout, and it’s played note-for-note here as the first half of the show. While not his greatest achievement, the record does still have its moments: wonderful opener ‘Who Are You New York?’ for one, not to mention the heartbreaking ‘True Loves’, one of the most beautiful songs the man has ever written.

Where the record falters, though, so too does the gig meander; the three songs at the heart of the album, penned by Rufus’s old drug buddy William Shakespeare, tend to wander aimlessly around the auditorium, trying to get a response from the crowd. However technically proficient these songs are, all they manage to evoke tonight from this listener is for Wainwright to hurry up and get back to what he does best.

And when he is at his best, he’s out of this world. After a brief interlude/costume change, Rufus is back at the piano, cape cast aside, to play crowd-pleasers drawn from his rich back catalogue. As he launches into ‘Beauty Mark’ there’s suddenly a buzz about the place – song-cycles aside, this is what everyone’s paid fifty quid for. Plenty of highlights follow, with ‘The Art Teacher’ and ‘Vibrate’ from the Want albums standing out in particular.

He finishes (pre-encore) with a rousing version of ‘Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk’ from 2001’s Poses, and it has the whole audience on its feet by the final bars. After engaging with the crowd in a brief chat about his mother’s passing and his own personal state of mind (he’s “doin’ okay”), Rufus then draws the night to a proper close with ‘Walking Song’, a tune his late mother wrote for her second album back in 1977. It’s a tender way to end a memorable evening, without things becoming too melodramatic. And besides, his own songs provide more than enough in the way of melodrama. It’s good to have him back.